


Educational

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Books, Castiel Learns to be Human, Castiel in the Bunker, Established Relationship, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M, Shopping, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-18 05:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5899432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is human, living in the bunker with an adoring Dean and a bemused Sam. On a grocery run, Cas discovers free wine sampling, Toys R Us, and develops a love of sticker books.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Anatomically inaccurate.”

 

Dean took one look at the packaging in Cas' hand and groaned to himself. “It's a pony, Cas. A toy pony. Who cares if-”

 

“It's called, 'Rainbow Dash',” Cas retorts with a tone full of all the stupidity he finds in the My Little Pony in his hands. “How would the pony even walk without articulation in its knees? Look! Look at the legs, Dean! Unbelieveable. And wings are not detachable!” The last statement was shouted as if Hasbro had specifically designed this offensive toy to upset him personally.

 

Dean once again questioned his own logic of agreeing to show Cas the inside of a ToysRUs store. He should have known when Cas had stopped dramatically in the entrance and pointed up accusingly at the R in the middle of the sign. “Shouldn't we tell them it is backwards?” had been what he'd said in a very loud whisper that earned them some strange glances from passing parents.

 

The wine samples at the neighbouring Walmart had also been a mistake, he reflected, as he watched Cas saunter along the aisles, bumping into a lifesize Elsa and apologising humbly to it.

 

Cas had shown a fondness previously unknown for red wine, and Dean had only turned his back momentarily from the unmanned sampling station when Cas had drank every free sample available and started swigging from the bottle. “You do this with whiskey,” had been his only response to Dean's open mouth, when Cas had loaded their grocery-laden trolley with six bottles.

 

Cas had opened and chugged down another half bottle of wine before they'd even reached the Impala. “It tastes good, Dean. I like this very much.”

 

Dean, happy to indulge Cas in whatever way his whims led him, could only watch and be hopeful that there would not be a hangover to deal with in the morning.

 

He walked slightly behind Cas as he manoeuvred his way around, hurling a constant commentary back at him.

 

“Cars are not aliens, Dean. They cannot 'transform' into anything.”

 

“The birds are angry, Dean. Why are the birds angry? Pigs do not steal eggs, they cannot climb trees.”

 

“Feathers, Dean! The dinosaurs had feathers! And the velociraptors did not move like that. This is disgraceful.”

 

“Katniss Everdeen would never fire a bow as inferior as this. I think she would make an excellent hunter. She would know that-” Dean put out a hand over the plastic arrow pointed at him, forcing Cas to stop his tirade.

 

“They're just toys, Cas. Toys. For kids. Make-believe, you know?”

 

“They are inaccurate and misleading.”

 

“For kids, Cas!”

 

“Children do not deserve to be treated as though they are inferior.”

 

Dean smiled; there wasn't much argument to that. “They're for practice. Like... adults in training. Stabilisers on the bike of life, yeah?”

 

Cas frowned at the bow in his hands, turning it over as he thought. “The toy guns are preparing children for war?”

 

“Not... not quite. But yeah, sure, something like that.”

 

Dean didn't catch Cas mumbling as he shoved the bow back into the display and continued on his warpath around the store.

 

“Hey, Cas? Didn't you have a...'childhood'?” Dean asked, already knowing the answer and somehow feeling very sad about an experience that Cas had missed out on.

 

“I came into existence. I was never a child.” Factual, completely 'accurate', yet enough to tug on the heartstrings. Dean stood for a moment, considering.

 

“Well,” Dean said in a tone that said 'that settles it' and made Cas pause his hand midway from reaching for another shelf. “Never too late to be a kid.”

 

“It is most definitely-” Cas' words were silenced with Dean's hand over his mouth and a raised eyebrow.

 

Dean led Cas back through his own childhood, explaining things like Hot Wheels and Star Wars action figures that he himself had never been able to own, but he'd longingly looked at long enough in shop windows when he thought no one would see.

 

They turned the corner of one more aisle and Dean was just about to explain to Cas about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles when Cas pressed a firm hand into Dean's chest and shoved him back a little.

 

“What. Is. This?” he growled, holding out a soft turtle-shaped toy with a red bandana and the name Raphael emblazoned on the cardboard packaging.

 

“It's... just a kid's toy, Cas. You know... teaching.” he finished lamely as Cas pinched the wrist of the turtle and he took in the slice of pizza in its hand.

 

“Reptiles do not eat pizza. And Raphael is not a turtle, he is an archangel-”

 

“He's also a dick, Cas.” Dean smiled, trying very hard not to burst out laughing.

 

Cas huffed, placing the turtle back onto the shelf as though it were something festering. “It is blasphemous.”

 

“Yeah, well...suck it up. It's just the way it is, okay?” Dean's patience stretched to the limits for no one like it did for Cas, but even so, there were limits.

 

More mumbling from Cas as he turned his back and sauntered away, leaving Dean to grin affectionately at him.

 

In the end, Dean had decided to give Cas a little late childhood. In the trunk of the Impala were several bags, containing Monopoly, several Avengers action figures, and 3 large water guns. On Cas' lap, sat securely in his hands, was a ten inch plush Mariners moose mascot with very startled looking eyebrows. Dean was having a difficult time trying to concentrate on the road as he tried not to laugh; Cas looked at the toy in wonder and leaned it on the dashboard to look out of the window from time to time before returning it to the safety of his arms.

 

Sam joined them at the table in the bunker as Cas carefully sat the moose down on a nearby bookshelf and told it to 'keep an eye on things', then turned out the bags. Sam looked particularly excited about the water guns and promised to demonstrate the 'practice weaponry' with them in the morning, his eyes promising Dean that teasing would come later.

 

As Dean cooked, Sam sat beside Cas and showed him the joy of a Panini sticker book collection of football players.

 

Over burgers and more red wine, Dean recounted Cas' adventures in ToysRUs, which left Sam with tears of laughter and Cas frowns of confusion.

 

Monopoly was set up, and the finer points of board games explained. Cas claimed the small car as his piece, and Sam looked at Dean with something akin to horror as Dean just smiled, letting him. Sam thought back to the rare times they'd played Monopoly as kids and the injuries he'd sustained trying to claim that piece from Dean, and then spent the next few minutes with his eyes going between Dean and Cas as though he'd never seen either of them before. Definite teasing to follow.

 

What got to Sam more than anything is that Dean didn't seem to care. He just sat smiling at Cas, as though that was the only thing to do.

 

“If toys are truly universal,” Cas mused, absently tossing the dice on to the board, “And you can play with them at any age, why are there no toys specifically for adults?”

 

The Winchesters choked on their drinks in unison and Sam shuffled out of the room, muttering about that being something for Dean to explain and the sudden urge for bed.

 

Cas looked at Dean expectantly, and Dean swallowed uncomfortably, nervously cuffing a hand to the back of his neck as he tried to think of what he should say.

 

“Well, Cas, it's like this...”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas leaned over the back of the chair where Dean was sitting and nuzzled into his neck briefly, before peering down at the handwritten document he was reading and pointed at the text.
> 
>  
> 
> “This says ‘The possessor of this document will be entitled to entrance into the …’” his voice trailed away for a moment and he drummed his fingers on the table before nodding against Dean’s shoulder. “The closest modern-day approximation would be a… disznótor,”
> 
>  
> 
> When Cas straightened up, Dean turned his head curiously, asking, “Oh yeah? And what’s one of those?” as he snagged his fingers to wrap around Cas’.
> 
>  
> 
> “Isn’t that like… a winter festival kind of… celebrating the pig? Or at least, the meat of a pig?” Sam said, and Dean turned back around to him slowly, and disdainfully, with a look on his face that said what reason on this earth is there for you to know that?

Cas leaned over the back of the chair where Dean was sitting and nuzzled into his neck briefly, before peering down at the handwritten document he was reading and pointed at the text.

 

“This says ‘The possessor of this document will be entitled to entrance into the …’” his voice trailed away for a moment and he drummed his fingers on the table before nodding against Dean’s shoulder. “The closest modern-day approximation would be a…  [ _ disznótor _ ](http://www.britannica.com/topic/disznotor) ,”

 

When Cas straightened up, Dean turned his head curiously, asking, “Oh yeah? And what’s one of those?” as he snagged his fingers to wrap around Cas’.

 

“Isn’t that like… a winter festival kind of… celebrating the pig? Or at least, the meat of a pig?” Sam said, and Dean turned back around to him slowly, and disdainfully, with a look on his face that said  _ what reason on this earth is there for you to know that _ ?

 

Cas nodded, rewarding Sam with a small smile. “That is more or less correct, Sam, yes.”

 

Dean huffed, looking back down at the text. “So you’re telling me there’s an entire festival out there to celebrate the sausage?”

 

“There are many festivals ‘out there’ to celebrate the sausage, Dean,” Cas told him solemnly, dragging Dean’s fingers up with his as he made his usual air quotes that set Dean off grinning helplessly.

 

“Oh yeah?” Dean said again, adjusting his chair slightly so that he could reach up for Cas’ hips and slot him in between his legs. “Are we talking of the pork sword variety, or the regular kind of sausage meat?”

 

Sam spluttered behind them indignantly, and Cas’ face split into a shy smile. 

 

“I understand that reference, Dean,” he said, dropping his eyes as his cheeks took on a hint of red. 

 

“Mmhmm,” Dean replied, arching his neck back to look up at him and winking. Cas took that hint and bent forward, pressing a soft kiss on his lips, then stood straight again.

 

“I’m going to work on my books,” he said quietly, reaching out to squeeze Dean’s fingers again as he raised them, before turning and leaving the room.

 

Dean stared after him in adoration, distracted only when Sam let out a spluttered burst of laughter. Dean’s eyes shot over to him and glared, and he raised his hand to point a finger viciously at him. 

 

“Don’t,” he warned, daring Sam to make a comment. “Don’t you dare,”

 

Sam raised his hands in defence. “I didn’t say a word.”

 

“Your smirk said everything.”

 

Sam’s eyes turned in the direction that Cas had just left in and his smile widened. “His ‘books’,”

 

“Hey,” Dean barked out. “I said. Leave it. It keeps him happy, okay?”

 

Sam forced back the laughter but couldn’t contain the grin. “Sure, Dean. It keeps him happy.”

 

“It does,” Dean insisted, turning back to his research. “And they  _ are  _ books,” he insisted again defensively, shooting another glare in Sam’s direction.

 

“Yes they are,” Sam agreed, nodding in confirmation. “In the same way pop-up books are books, and... picture books are books, and graphic novels are-”

 

“If you still can’t tell the difference between a comic and a graphic novel, Sam, I swear, so help me-”

 

“Okay! Okay!” Sam said, raising his voice and laughing. 

 

“He likes them,” Dean said with a tone that spoke of finality and the end of the conversation. “He enjoys them. He comes up to me,” and Dean’s face lit up then with a smile that had Sam biting back an  _ aww _ , “And he quotes football stats and hockey scores and… and all kinds of things that… to be honest, I know absolutely nothing about. But  _ he  _ does. And… and…”

 

“It makes him happy?” Sam finished, grinning from ear to ear.

 

“Yeah. It  _ does _ ,” Dean said, staring at Sam for another minute, then dropping his gaze once more.

 

Sam looked on back at Dean for a while longer, reining in the smile, before nodding. “I guess some of it is… at least… kind of educational,” he relented, straightening up the paper in front of him. “Although Spiderman-”

 

“Hey. Just. Leave it, okay?” Dean’s glare that time was enough to silence Sam entirely, and he gave one long sigh, shook his head, and returned to his research.

 

***

 

Oblivious to Sam and Dean’s conversation, Cas rolled up his sleeves and slid into his chair at the corner desk in the library that he’d claimed for his own.

 

He drummed his fingers against his chin in thought, glancing up at the well-ordered shelves that Dean had put up for him above the desk, and reached up to pull down a long rectangular package and a glossy book.

 

His thumb ran over the international shipping sticker before sliding inside the slot he’d made when he’d checked the contents of his purchase. He pulled back the lid, checking the invoice for a moment and agreed with Dean that the pound sign really did look a bit like a backwards number three, then pulled out a wad of the sticker packs and hummed contentedly at himself.

 

Today was a Jurassic World sticker book day, and Cas looked affectionately at the t-rex on the front cover wondering yet again how humans had managed to interpret the skeletons so very wrong, before turning over the page. 

 

Dean had ordered the sticker book and box of stickers online for him as a surprise. Cas’ face lit up with a small, private smile, remembering the way he’d given Dean his thanks. Briefly picking up the enclosed flyer, Cas read that the stickers he was collecting were ‘available in all good newsagents’. Cas first wondered what a  _ newsagents _ was, and then what classified as a  _ good _ one, before laying the flyer back down on the desk surface and turning back to his book.

 

Cas liked to work through one pack of the stickers at a time, despite having so many available to him to choose from. He liked the order of it, and the excitement of finding the last one to complete a particular page or series, and the stack of duplicates meant he had made some online friends with whom he could trade, and discuss their collections.

 

Picking up the first sticker on the pile, he turned it first to check the number, then glanced back at the sticker itself. “I believe you are supposed to represent the leg of a triceratops,” he told the sticker with much amusement, turning the pages until he found the one he was looking for. “You are very, very wrong. But I believe Dean would say that you were close enough.”

 

Cas diligently folded back the corner of the sticker so that he wouldn’t crease it, then lined it up with perfect accuracy before dropping it down into place and smoothing it flat, free of any air bubbles. He stared down at his handiwork for a moment, then smiled, and reached for the next one.

 

When Cas had had his fill of adding new stickers to the book, he studied it, from cover to cover, smoothing his hand down over the surface and liking the way the edge of the stickers felt against his palm. Then he closed the book decisively, slid it back up on its shelf along with the package containing the stickers, neatly folded the empty packets, and dropped them into the trashcan beside his desk.

 

***

 

There weren’t many sticker suppliers near to the bunker, so either Dean ordered them for Cas online, or they picked up an excessive amount when they were near a ToysRUs. 

 

Dean watched as Cas ran his fingers along the edge of the shelf of X-Wings and grinned: Cas’ fascination with Star Wars had been a welcome surprise, and although, according to Cas, the Star Wars sticker books Dean had bought him last time on a whim were not of the same quality as his usual Panini ones, the gift was very well received.

 

That was an added perk to buying Cas all this stuff, Dean smirked at himself.  _ Oh yeah _ , he thought, Cas  _ really  _ knew how to show his appreciation.

 

Losing his focus for a minute, Dean shook his head blearily, asking Cas to repeat his question when he turned around to look back at him expectantly.

 

“I said. I believe they have incorrectly painted this X-Wing. The stripe of paint along this side should be up to here,” he indicated, jabbing at the toy, “Not here.”

 

Dean grinned all over again, nodding. “You’re probably right, Cas.”

 

Cas looked up at him and huffed. “I  _ am _ right, Dean.”

 

Dean leaned forward and kissed him, feeling the relenting smile beneath his lips. “You are. So,” he said when he pulled back. “Want one?”

 

“No,” Cas told him with certainty. “Just more stickers. I don’t want to run out again like last time,”

 

Dean winced, remembering an incident where they’d seen a Panini sticker sign outside a store on their way to a hunt, and Cas had insisted on stopping. Then half-interrogating the poor sales assistant, pressing him hard up against the counter with a seething glare when it appeared they were still waiting for a delivery of NFL stickers. 

 

The ferocity with which Cas had killed those werewolves in the aftermath when they’d had to leave the shop empty-handed, was, alright, a huge turn on, he thought, shifting uncomfortably at the memory, and okay, perhaps not related to the sticker situation at all. But the look on that sales assistant’s face as they’d left the store would keep Dean wincing in embarrassment for as long as he lived.

 

“No,” Dean agreed easily, reaching out and grabbing Cas’ hand, “No, we can’t have that happening.

 

***

 

“How’s he doing?”

 

Dean looked over his shoulder from where he’d been preparing soup to see Sam sliding bags of groceries on to the table, and sighed heavily.

 

“I don’t know, Sam,” he said dejectedly. “I… I thought he was getting better. His temperature dropped right down, but now he’s all listless, and sneezing, and… I hate it when he has a cold.”

 

Sam smiled, walking up and briefly wrapping a hand around his shoulder, then pulled them both out a beer before he started unpacking. He kept sending glances over in Dean’s direction as he did, licking his lips at the smell, and feeling his stomach rumbling.

 

“There gonna be some left for me?” he asked hopefully, sliding the box of cereal he was holding into the cupboard and leaning back against the counter.

 

Dean nodded, then asked, “That the Star Wars stuff he likes?” dipping a spoon into the pot and holding it out for Sam to try.

 

“Tastes amazing. As always,” Sam smiled, sticking his tongue out to lick the spoon Dean was still gripping, as he’d done since before when Dean was taller than him. “And yeah. It is. It’s even got a toy surprise in it,” he added, grabbing the spoon for himself and walking up to the stove, slurping up another mouthful of the soup.

 

Dean grinned, and nodded again. “We’ll let him open them tomorrow then. Might cheer him up. You know… if he’s still sick,” and Dean’s voice drifted away in concern, making Sam fight the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“It’s a cold, Dean. He’s had colds before. He’ll be fine.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed with a sigh. “Yeah, he will. I know that. It’s just… you know,” he turned away then, shrugging his shoulders.

 

“You’re mother hen-ing,” Sam told him teasingly, ducking out of the way of Dean’s arm as he struck out at him.

 

“So what?” Dean replied, turning back and stirring the soup a final time before switching off the stove.

 

“Nothing, nothing,” Sam grinned, this time letting his eyes roll as Dean’s back was to him. “Want me to go get him?”

 

Dean reached out for three bowls, but paused half way. “I was gonna take it to our room actually.”

 

Sam snorted out, mumbling, “Of course you were,” then, “Fine. I’ll come too though. Got something for him,”

 

Dean turned at Sam’s words, raising an eyebrow.

 

“You’ll see,” he said, stepping forward and pulling out the trays they had slotted down the side of the coffee machine.

 

Dean carried two of the bowls of soup, and Sam, one, balancing thick slices of freshly baked bread next to his. When they got to the bedroom Dean gently nudged the door open as he’d left it slightly ajar, and put his tray down on a chair.

 

“Hey, Cas, how’re you doing?” Sam asked, taking in the forlorn look on his face as Cas struggled to sit upright.

 

“I feel pathetic,” he grumbled thickly, leaning back against the headboard.

 

“You’re not pathetic,” Dean chided, as he took his own bowl off of the tray to rest on a space on the bedside cabinet, slide some of the bread from Sam’s on to the tray, and balanced it on Cas’ lap. Cas looked up with a grateful though sleepy smile.

 

“This smells delicious,” he said softly, dipping in his spoon. 

 

With a struggle, Sam slid out the spare tray from under his own, passed it over to Dean, and kept a paper bag down out of view as he sat down on the now-free chair, smiling happily and breaking off bits of bread to dunk in. 

 

Dean carefully sat down on the bed next to Cas, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he balanced the tray on his own legs.

“Okay?” he said with a full mouth, looking over at Sam.

 

Sam moaned in appreciation to tell him that it was, and the three of them ate in comfortable silence until their spoons were scraping empty bowls.

 

When they were finished, Sam stacked up their bowls and put the trays down where he’d been sitting, walking around to Cas’ side of the bed and nudging Cas over so he could sit down. 

 

“For you,” he said simply, dropping the paper bag he’d been hiding down on Cas’ stomach.

 

Cas’ fingers stretched out over the bag as he looked up at Sam curiously, receiving a smile back from him. He ducked his head to look inside, eyes shooting back up with a delighted grin as he upended the bag, and out poured several packets of stickers.

 

“You said you were running out,” Sam said softly, giving a small shrug.

 

Cas kept grinning his thanks as Dean gave out a small laugh, leaning over to kiss him on the side of his head. 

 

“Wanna do these now?” he asked, moving the moment Cas nodded and grabbing the stack of bowls and trays on his way out.

 

“When I’m not… pathetic,” Cas began when Dean had left.

 

“You’re not pathetic, Cas,” Sam told him firmly. “Everyone hates a cold. It’s like the stupidest feeling in the world… but you can’t do anything about it,” he shrugged. “Relax. Get better. You’ll be fine in no time.”

 

Cas smiled in thanks, letting out a little cough and grimacing.

 

“You were saying?” Sam prompted, and for a moment Cas looked up at him in confusion.

 

“Oh,” Cas said, when his confusion cleared. “Yes. When I am… less…. sick,” he tried again, carefully, smiling when Sam nodded to show he approved of Cas’ amendment. “I would like us to go and see The Blues,”

 

“The Blues?” Sam asked, shifting a little where he was sitting.

 

“Yes,” Cas confirmed. “The St. Louis Blues. They are one of the closest teams to this location. There used to be a team called the Kansas City Scouts in the NHL from 1974 until 1976. In 1976, the franchise relocated to Denver, Colorado, and became the Colorado Rockies. The Rockies have since relocated to New Jersey where they are currently known as the New Jersey Devils. The St. Louis Blues are therefore our ‘almost local’ team.”

 

“Alright, Wikipedia,” Dean laughed as he came back into the room and handed Cas his NHL sticker book.

 

Cas shot him a reproachful look, making Dean pout and lean in to kiss him.

 

“Cas was saying,” Sam laughed, watching the two of them, “That when he’s better he wants to go and watch some hockey.

 

“Okay,” Dean shrugged easily, and Sam fought back a comment about how easily.

 

“So,” Sam said instead, “The Blues. Any good?”

 

“They are currently in the top five of Central in the Western Conference,” Cas told him firmly. “That would suggest they are ‘quite good’,”

 

Dean grinned at the air quotes again and reached out to snag Cas’ fingers. “Soon as you’re better,” he promised, kissing the back of Cas’ hand.

  
  
  
  



End file.
